


the closest thing to completion

by random_chick



Category: Push (2009)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 09:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/random_chick/pseuds/random_chick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What he thinks is right  isn’t what <i>she</i> thinks is right and it’s just this giant mess that will never resolve the way she wants.</p><p>But she can dream, can’t she, and dream she does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the closest thing to completion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [finestdentistry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/finestdentistry/gifts).



Cassie doesn’t so much care if it’s right, even at her supposedly tender age -- though her young years have been anything but tender, and maybe that’s why she thinks about what sex with Nick would be like. Because she know their first time would be tender and awkward and fumbling and Nick infinitely more concerned about her satisfaction than his own.

She likes that about him, that despite the infinite badassery he can -- and so often does -- show, he’s got this gentle side, this quiet tenderness, that so few people actually see. Just as she knows that’s the side she’d see if they were to make love.

And that’s what it would be, too. Making love, not having sex and certainly not fucking each other’s brains out the way she’d like. He’ll be too worried, too hung up on the rules that in her opinion shouldn’t even matter because A: what rules have ever mattered to them, B: there really _are_ countries where it’s legal for her to have sex, not to mention in a few months she’ll be older for even a few more of those countries, and C: it’s not like he’s going to be transporting her into those countries specifically for the purpose of having sex.

But this is Nick, and Nick tries to do what’s right even if he doesn’t always manage it -- and sometimes it blows up in their faces spectacularly -- and what he thinks is right in this case isn’t what _she_ thinks is right and it’s just this giant mess that will never resolve the way she wants.

But she can dream, can’t she, and dream she does -- of Nick’s lips trailing along her throat, his hands caressing her breasts, his leg impatiently nudging her legs apart.

And she dreams of the what comes after. Nick inside her, going awkwardly, hesitantly still as he lets her adjust to him -- because even in her dreams, she knows _that_ shit ain’t gonna be comfortable -- and then he moves.

Oh, does he move. It isn’t fast, she never dreams of that, but he has a purpose and she knows he will do his damnedest to fulfill that purpose, even if it happens to be satisfying Cassie Holmes in a way that deep down she knows will not happen for a few years yet. But dreams are different and so she settles back on the couch, hand resting on her thigh for what she knows will come.

Cassie falls back into the fantasy-dream again, Nick thrusting slowly, not wanting to hurt her but needing to move. And she understands that, lifting her hips to meet him even though it makes things hurt a little. She’s no stranger to various pain, and this is the kind of pain she’s wanted since she met him.

Her hands cling to his shoulders, fingers digging in, and she knows that she’s either going to leave some gouges or some serious bruises, but she doesn’t care and he doesn’t care, either. In the dream, he’s more than happy to go at her -- carefully, but even so -- and take what she gives in return.

And Cassie knows it isn’t perfect, isn’t the earth-shattering sex he’s used to with any of the other women she’s been with -- and she _knows_ he’s been with others -- but he doesn’t mind and seems to find her perfect just the way she is, and that’s the only thing that matters.

Because when you get right down to it, the only time Cassie Holmes feels loved is in dreams of something that will never happen, or at least not for another few years at best. She doesn’t know if she can last that long, and so as her mind tries to pull her from the dream, she drives herself back down into it with something approaching great desperation.

She arches her back, writhing under Nick and clutching at him and enjoying every damn second of it. The way Nick moves against her and moans softly in her ear, his breath more than a whisper, and the way he finally -- _finally_ \-- gets a blessed clue and moves a little bit faster. Not harder, because even if he’s going to break the rules, break the laws, he’s not going to break _her_. But it’s closer to what she wants, needs, craves, and so she takes it with everything she can manage.

Nick lets out a quiet sob against her ear and she wonders for a second why -- which nearly pulls her from the dream -- and then he traces his tongue along her ear and she _gets_ it. It was a sob of relief, of joy, of gratefulness that what he’s doing isn’t as wrong as he fears it is. That it may not technically, legally be right but that for _them_ it is absolutely perfect.

And then a door opens and Cassie’s nothing more than a thirteen-year-old girl with her hand up her skirt and a sad-eyed guardian looking at her with something approaching regret, in the oddest way.

Cassie meets Nick’s gaze defiantly, even as she slides her hand out from under her skirt. She will not, cannot let him make her feel that her dreams are wrong, bad, dirty -- well, alright, they’re dirty, but the fun kind and not the kind he’s thinking of. She refuses to let his well-meaning self-righteousness ruin the closest thing she’s come to completion in more years than her young-old mind wants to consider.

She refuses to let Nick hurt her, as he’s hurt her in the past. And every time this happens, every time he catches her, it’s the same.

Eye contact, sad look, hesitation as though he wants to say something and then thinks better of it.

This time is no different. Only Cassie can’t take it and as Nick looks at her, she looks back at him with a fire in her eyes that she knows, just _knows_ , will burn him.

And it does. He breaks the gaze, turns, walks into the other room.

All Cassie can do is smooth her skirt down, catch her breath, and wipe away a tear she pretends isn’t there. She may be chasing futility, but someday -- _someday_ \-- it will be reality.

If she doesn’t break before then.


End file.
